


Night Terrors

by taakopines



Category: Half-Life
Genre: F/M, Fluffy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 16:03:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18253187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taakopines/pseuds/taakopines
Summary: His lungs heaved for air upon the sudden jolt from a pair of hands latched to his shoulders.





	Night Terrors

His Achilles tendons screamed with every step he took. When was the last time he’d sat down? Hours. It had been hours. There wasn’t any time, and every space one could possibly find here to hide and catch one’s breath was guaranteed to be already occupied by a headcrab or ten. The only thing he could do was keep moving. 

Everything looked glazed over and distant; he was sure if it weren’t for the steady flow of every kind of legal drug coursing through his veins that he would’ve collapsed from exhaustion an entire day ago, or more likely just dropped dead from shock. Science was the only thing keeping him alive. The _suit_ was the only thing keeping him alive, and as of late, spare battery packs had been scarce finds. 

His ears rang from the constant barrage of screaming and gunfire on his eardrums. It was practically a miracle that he didn’t have more hearing loss, though miracles were not on his mind. He was covered in so much blood, both human and alien, it was hard to tell what was his own and what was the blood of the young marines who he had no choice but to kill, or the blood of his colleagues—too many scientists and brave security guards who had died before his eyes or even in his arms. The light had flickered out of so many eyes today, the horrible sound of their lungs desperately gulping their last breaths forever embedded in Gordon’s memory to be replayed anytime his mind decided it was too quiet. At some point, his eyes stopped letting him cry.

He also _wreaked._ When this was over—if it was ever over—all he wanted was a hot shower. Blazing hot, the kind of shower that stings like hell but renews you from head to toe. A scalding shower, with enough soap to clean an entire city, and then the longest sleep he’d ever had in his life. Any surface would do, a bed, a couch, the floor; hell, he’d even settle for sleeping standing up. His body was holding on by a few threads and an IV full of morphine, he wasn’t picky.

The tendons in his legs continued to cry out in agony as he marched through this oddly familiar labyrinth of rails. He had long abandoned the powered cart he began this journey on—he learned early on that the quick travel wasn’t worth giving up stealth after being ambushed by soldiers. He slid his way along the walls of the tunnel, very, very careful not to touch the electrified railings. He’d fallen once before, and he was determined never to make that mistake again. Another example of how many times over he’d be dead without the HEV suit.

Radio chatter bounced off the concrete walls.

There were more marines up ahead.

With a deep breath, he pulled his shotgun off his back and resumed his careful trek to the next station where he knew they’d be waiting for him. He very slowly peeked his head around the corner to get an idea of what he was dealing with. Three soldiers, one manning a machine gun, propped behind a small shelter of sandbags. Okay, he could deal with that, he’d survived much worse. Just as they seemed to gain realization of his presence, he ripped out from behind the wall, ran up the steps, and opened fire.

The shotgun didn’t fire. He pressed the trigger again. And again. _Click, click._

He had loaded up the gun only a few minutes ago, how was that—

_Bangbangbangbang!_

Before he even heard the gunshots, he was on his back. How could he have been so stupid? The suit hissed and blared a warning— _Blood loss detected!_ —and he could immediately feel the warm, gooey sensation of his own blood pooling out. His effort to scream proved fruitless.

_Gordon?_

The two soldiers rushed in to grab him while the third behind the sandbags grabbed the radio on his shoulder.

_Gordon!_

“We’re gonna have fun with this guy.”

The one man raised his gun as Gordon writhed and struggled in distress, and plunged the butt of the weapon into his face.

“Gordon!”

His lungs heaved for air upon the sudden jolt from a pair of hands latched to his shoulders. “Gordon, honey,” the voice—oh, god, it was Alyx—pleaded with worry, “are you okay? You were screaming.”

Her frightened eyes, still heavy from sleep, gazed down into his own. His veins had turned to ice, he couldn’t move for a moment, he was too terrorized to speak. The room they were in slowly came back to his vision—dark, warm, a window letting in a bit of soft light that the moon still lovingly reflected onto the Earth even after everything it’d been through. He could barely make anything out without his glasses, but he gathered enough information from his surroundings to know that he was safe. He was safe, it was okay. He wasn’t shot. He wasn’t dead.

“Gordon?” Alyx’s voice was much softer now. She removed one of her hands from his shoulder and raised it to rest on his cheek, which he quickly reached up to grab and squeeze.

“Nightmare,” he finally whispered, breathlessly, after his throat realized it was safe to speak. “I’m okay.”

When his heart seemed to be descending back to its normal rate, Gordon began to sit up from lying on his back in the bed, which Alyx took as a sign to scoot back to give him room, though he refused to let go of her hand when she did. He put his empty hand up to rub his exhausted eyes. “I’m sorry I woke you up…”

Alyx shook her head; both of them spoke softly as to not disturb the quiet of the night. “No, don’t be. I… wasn’t sleeping very well either…”

“I guess we’re both pretty screwed up,” he commented with a melancholy smirk.

“I guess so,” she chuckled. “Come here.”

With the request she slid her hand out of his grasp and moved her arms to be around his shoulders, pulling him in to rest his head just under her chin, his cheek comfortable against the cool skin on her chest where her tank top didn’t reach. He felt no need to protest this action and instead eased the lower half of his body closer to intertwine his own legs with hers.

She smiled gently as she reached up to run her fingers through his short, dark auburn hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he sighed. “Just Black Mesa again.”

He felt her head nod solemnly above his. If it was him, he probably wouldn’t know what to say, either. His head lifted off her chest to gaze up at her face. Somehow her eyes still found the light to glitter in this dark room. “Were you up thinking about your dad?”

Her eyes left his and suddenly looked so much more tired. “Yeah.”

“Aw, Alyx…”

“I know, I know…”

It was his turn to sit up and cup his hand tenderly around her jaw, and with the gentle touch her eyes fluttered shut. He leaned his head forward to rest against hers. They sat like that for several long and sweet moments before she pulled her head back and turned her sight to him again, this time her brown eyes speckled with sadness but overflowing with love. She reached up to intertwine her fingers with his soft hair once more, and he dropped his hand, moving them down to curl around her waist. Still looking into his eyes, she murmured, “I love you so much, Gordon.”

He couldn’t help but grin, no matter how many times he’d heard her say it before. It was so soft and saccharine, a gentle, unfiltered expression of affection that he never would’ve guessed could’ve survived the apocalypse. “I love you, too,” he whispered just before she pulled him into a small kiss. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Physically, she’d saved him from a dozen different predicaments, many of which happened only hours after they first met. But spiritually? She saved him every day. Every single second she was rescuing him from himself and breathing life into him, and he did the same for her. Part of it had to be what the Vortigaunts had said to him down in the mines, about their souls being intertwined; some of it was just purely love in its deepest form.

Another peck, then two, then three, and Alyx laughed her sleepy laugh and withdrew from his grasp. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Not _really,_ ” he joked, “but I _guess_ we can.”

Alyx smiled teasingly. “I’ll be the big spoon…” 

“Oh, well you should’ve led with that.” A harmony of quiet chortles came from the two of them as they lied back down in their bed and Gordon turned his back, allowing Alyx to wrap her arm around to lie against his chest, the other arm wedged under one of their pillows. He enveloped the hand on his chest with his own and stroked it with his thumb a few times before leaving it to rest where it was before. 

He was still startled, but in a way, he was kind of glad he woke up. 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, lord. I'm just obsessed with these two. I'm obsessed with the idea of them having the time to be completely unguarded and happy around each other, nothing big to worry about. Tender moments like this just make me melt into a puddle when I read them so I decided to take a jab at writing my own take.


End file.
